The sky was already gone.
What hovered above wasn't a heaven—no stars, no moons. Just a storm of swirling red clouds, pulsing like a heartbeat. Lightning cracked across the sky, glowing gold, yet completely silent. The kind of storm that didn't bring rain… but ruin.
The air tasted like ash. Every breath burned.
And on the horizon, they came—creatures with skin like rotting stone and eyes that dripped with lightless fire. Thousands of them. An army carved from nightmares, marching to a rhythm only the dead could hear.
I stood at the front lines, surrounded by warriors, generals, and kings. Behind me was the last stronghold, its gates trembling with each distant footstep of the approaching horde. And yet… everyone was looking at me.
Because I wasn't just a commander.
I was him.
The one the prophecies whispered about.
The one they said would fall… or rise.
A gust of wind blew past, carrying with it a torn flag, half-burnt. I watched it flutter away.
Then a voice broke the silence.
"Joshua!" someone yelled.
I didn't turn. I didn't need to.
Rael's voice was always sharp when he was scared, and right now, he sounded like a blade about to snap.
"They're breaching the left ridge! Orders?!"
I raised my hand, and the ground answered before I did. A shockwave rippled outward from beneath my feet, turning the earth upward like a massive shield. Spears of stone stabbed through the air, crashing into the flank.
Screams followed. Enemy screams.
I exhaled slowly. My body felt heavier than ever, my limbs sluggish. My aura wasn't what it used to be. Not after what I did at the Cursed Gulf. Not after what I sacrificed to even make it this far.
But I had no regrets.
I wasn't fighting for victory anymore.
I was fighting to buy time.
A shadow passed over me.
I looked up. A monstrous creature swooped down from the blood-red clouds, wings made of bone and fire, mouth wide enough to swallow a siege tower. It screeched, shattering the sound barrier with pure malice.
I didn't move.
I simply raised one finger.
Black flames spiraled from my wrist, wrapping around the creature in mid-air. The moment it touched the ground, it erupted—no sound, just implosion. A silent death.
Ash rained down like gray snow.
Rael exhaled behind me. "Still terrifying."
But I didn't hear him.
Because something else was coming.
I felt it before I saw it.
The atmosphere changed, like reality itself tensed up. My heartbeat slowed. My grip tightened on the blade sheathed at my back.
Then he appeared.
At the top of the ridge stood a lone figure.
Clad in white bone armor, motionless as a statue. His helmet was shaped like the skull of a dragon, and his sword dragged behind him, screeching against the stone with every step.
The Pale King.
My oldest enemy.
My greatest failure.
He walked forward slowly, mist curling around him, dead things rising in his wake. Behind him, the rest of the horde followed—silent, hungry, unafraid.
Rael's face went pale. "You said he fell at Dusk Hollow."
"I thought he did," I muttered.
I stepped forward.
Around me, generals exchanged looks. Some prayed. Others backed away. A few whispered my name like it was a final spell.
Joshua Kevwe.
They used to call me a false hope.
Now they looked to me like I was the last light in a dying world.
The Pale King stopped fifty paces away.
He tilted his head slightly, as if studying me. Then, with one fluid motion, he raised his blade.
No words. No speeches.
He simply attacked.
The ground exploded as he surged forward, his blade cleaving through space itself. I drew my sword—an ancient relic forged from a meteor that fell when I was reborn—and met his strike head-on.
CLANG!
A wave of force shot outward, flattening everything in a hundred-meter radius. Soldiers flew. Trees snapped like twigs. Entire chunks of the battlefield were erased.
The clash echoed like thunder across the valley.
Our battle had begun.
The Pale King was faster than before. Stronger. Every movement of his blade tore the air apart. I countered each blow with desperate precision, my body moving on instinct. I couldn't afford to fall.
Not yet.
Not until I finished what I started.
"Joshua!" Rael screamed. "Behind you!"
Three reapers surged toward me from the shadows, blades raised.
Without looking, I whispered a word in the old tongue. A sigil flared beneath my feet. Spears of light burst from the ground, piercing them mid-leap.
They dropped without a sound.
But I had no time to rest.
The Pale King pressed harder, each strike heavier, sharper, crueler. He wasn't fighting to win.
He was fighting to end me.
Our blades locked once more. His burning eyes stared through the helmet.
I didn't blink.
But deep down… I knew I couldn't beat him here.
Not like this.
I staggered back, panting.
My vision blurred.
This body—it wasn't enough.
And that's when the memories surged.
The first time I saw this world… when I opened my eyes in a burning cradle, reborn with no name, no power. The long years in the slums. The first time I stole food just to survive. The orphanage that collapsed in the blight. The first time I awakened.
Everything that happened to bring me to this moment.
Everything that made me who I was.
This wasn't where my story began.
This wasn't even close.
Because before I was Joshua Kevwe, the man who stood between life and extinction…
…I was nobody.
Then I died.
And was born again.
Yeah.
This story doesn't start with me standing on a battlefield facing a nightmare in white armor.
It starts in the dirt, in the darkness, in a life I never asked for.
So if you want to know how I got here…
If you really want to understand the weight of the sword I carry, and the names carved into its blade…
Then you'll have to come with me.
Back to the beginning.
I smirked, raising my sword again.
The Pale King lunged.
And I said—
"Well… this is a story for another day."